


Romeo, Romeo

by ChasingVulpixels



Series: Wherefore Art Thou [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Sequel, Slow Burn, kind of?, set in the 80s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29051481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasingVulpixels/pseuds/ChasingVulpixels
Summary: Chloe hates Max's guts. Kind of. Max hates Chloe's guts too. Maybe.(Following the events of Wherefore Art Thou, Max returns to Arcadia Bay for university.)
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price
Series: Wherefore Art Thou [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131359
Comments: 25
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE,  
** SUMMER, 1989

**MAX**

Her aunt was looking at her weirdly.  
“Are you sure you wanna do this, honey?”  
Max had expected this reaction. There was some pushback when she first talked about applying to Blackwell, but nobody thought she’d actually _get in,_ herself included.  
“I’m sure. I’m ready to go back.”  
Her aunt’s brow furrowed, then she pulled her in for a tight hug.  
Linda always smelled like talcum powder and spiced perfume. Max had grown to find the smell somewhat comforting in the two years she’d lived here. At first it was cloying, all sticky and sickly sweet. Max wasn’t used to being touched — Vanessa was never much of a hugger — and her aunt’s affection was something she had to deal with. Now, it was one of her favourite things about Linda. She smelled like home.  
“We’re proud of you, Maxie.” said her uncle, gruffly. He wasn’t much of a hugger either. Instead, he clapped his bear-like hand on her shoulder with enough force to make her wobble on the kitchen stool. Max smiled up at him. She could see a lot of her mom’s features in his face — they had the same gentle curve to their jaw, the same high cheekbones, the same downturned eyes. At first, it had been difficult to be around him. Every time he looked at her, she saw Vanessa staring back. It had gotten easier once she’d found out that her mom had left Jeff (apparently) for good. Vanessa had never even called. Max guessed she didn’t want her back. The last she’d heard, they were settled somewhere along the east coast — as far away as they could possibly get without crossing oceans.  
Her uncle’s heavy hand came down on her shoulder again, drawing her out of her thoughts.  
“I guess we’d better celebrate, huh?” he said, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of white wine, already half empty. Max smiled. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she couldn’t stand the taste of it. 

***

Her aunt had been fretting about her move-in since the day Max got her acceptance letter, and she had been expressing her anxieties through shopping.It started out with some small things — new bedsheets, towels, a laundry basket — but quickly devolved into ridiculousness (see: the pile of kitchen appliances Max had no kitchen for). The car rattled the whole journey, filled to the brim with… stuff. She’d never had this much stuff before. The novelty was already wearing off.   
The closer they got to Arcadia Bay, the more Max started to regret her choice of university. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. Everything that happened was so distant and hazy it could have been a bad dream — but she still flinched when she heard a door slam, and she changed the channel whenever sports games came on TV. As the car rumbled nearer and nearer to Blackwell, things started coming back into focus. She was sure they’d passed the rest stop that… Max shook the memory out of her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Max didn’t think about that anymore. Didn’t think about _her_ — at least, she tried not to. Chloe had this way of pushing herself to the front of her mind whenever she least expected it. Even now, even after two years, she was still catching Max off-guard. Max reached for the silver pansy around her neck, bringing the chain up over her chin, clutching the delicate flower between finger and thumb.

It took them two trips to get everything from the boot into her dorm. Max had only packed one of the five (FIVE!) bags that were in the car: her satchel bag. This was the stuff she didn’t want to lose — her comics, her polaroid camera, her diary, her wallet. The letters. Unopened. She set this carefully on her bare mattress while her aunt and uncle surveyed her new room, Linda setting out potted plants and throw pillows, her uncle examining the window frames and door locks with a furrowed brow. Every so often, he’d shake his head, or rattle something to test its durability. Her neighbour was already playing some obnoxiously loud music by the time they arrived — maybe if it wasn’t muffled through the wall, Max would have liked it. It sounded like it had a good guitar riff, and a lot of drums. These days, she was into some of the heavier stuff.When her aunt and uncle seemed satisfied, they stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. They looked like all the other parents on campus — not quite sure what to do with themselves, but not quite ready to leave. Her aunt had a vaguely teary expression, which she dabbed at with her cloth handkerchief.  
“Well,” her uncle said, “I guess we’d better get going if we want to make it back in time for dinner.”  
“Yeah,” sniffed Linda, “I guess we’d better go, honey. Let you settle in.”  
Max smiled weakly. This was harder than she’d expected.  
“I… love you guys,” she said, and she gave them each a hug — even her uncle seemed okay with it. She didn’t know why she had so much trouble saying that word, _love_. It got stuck in her throat, every single time. Her uncle gave her an awkward pat on the back as they broke apart.  
“Remember, we’re —”  
“Just a phone call away, yeah.” Max smiled. “Drive safely.” They nodded. Max watched them walk all the way back down the corridor and out of the front door. Her aunt’s perfume lingered in the hallway for a second, and she missed them both already. 

**CHLOE**

She’d been kind of at a loose end since Rachel left. Studying in California or whatever. At least she bothered to call, like, once a month. They were supposed to go to Blackwell _together_. Now she was pretty much alone, except for Steph. Nathan and Victoria too. Since they’d helped out with Max. They didn’t talk much, but Chloe did a kind of nod whenever she encountered Victoria, and she had (mostly) forgiven Nathan for being an ass back then.  
Without Rachel, moving into her dorm was kind of depressing. Joyce helped her bring in her stuff, but as much as she busied herself, Chloe knew they were both thinking about the same thing: William. He should be here, too. Hell, if he _was_ here, Chloe wouldn’t even be in the dormitories. She’d be at home. But the house was too empty without them. Jennifer’s door across the hall taunted her every time she went up or down the stairs. There were too many memories there — the spots of neon nail polish Jennifer had spilled on the carpet, her dad’s reading glasses on the console table, the polaroid of Max. It was like a mausoleum. So, even though she lived a fifteen minute drive away, Chloe had moved into the Blackwell dormitories — a nice, clinically white fresh start. No stains on the carpet. No stacks of comics that she couldn’t bring herself to read. No reminders of everything she’d lost. She’d felt bad about leaving her mom alone at first. And then Joyce told her about David, and then her dad’s glasses disappeared from the spot where they’d been collecting dust, and suddenly she didn’t feel bad at all. 

Her mom pretty much left her to it after a brief hug. Chloe didn’t feel all that warmly towards her after she moved on so quickly. Her dad and sister were… they were —  
Joyce had made a new family. Just like that. And expected Chloe to do the same.  
Chloe put a CD into her player and turned up the volume, loud enough to drown everything else out. She used to do this in the truck, but she didn’t drive anymore. She didn’t even have the truck anymore. 

**MAX**

Freshers were supposed to meet in the cafeteria for orientation at 3pm. That’s what the flyer said, anyway. Max smoothed her hair in the mirror, but it had a way of springing back up wherever she attempted to flatten it. She sighed. She didn’t have holes in her clothes anymore, but she looked pretty much the same as she always had. Drowning in a big sweater — pinkish-brown today — ribbons and bracelets up only one arm now, instead of both, because she was mature or whatever. She dabbed on some lipstick, and then rubbed it onto her cheeks with her fingers. There. She looked a little more alive now. Heart hammering, Max grabbed her keys, and strode purposefully out of the doors, hoping to God nobody from high school would remember her.   
She spotted a few people she recognised from high school, but as far as she could tell, nobody recognised _her_. When she reached the cafeteria, she saw a small group of people huddled at the far end, and walked towards them. She was pretty early, having anticipated a much longer walk from the dorms. She’d also planned for getting lost, but had surprisingly made it there without much trouble.  
“Max?” she heard a girl speak to her right. Max whipped around.  
“Kate?”  
The girl waved her over, and Max could see that she looked mostly the same, although she was wearing her hair in a bun now. She had lost some of the childish roundness in her face. Max missed it. She crossed over to the table that Kate was perched on.   
“Hi,” Max said sheepishly. Kate’s mouth was hanging open.  
“Oh my goodness, Max, where have you been? We all thought you… _died._ ” she finished in a whisper, looking around as if she’d just said something she shouldn’t have.  
“Uh…” she wasn’t exactly sure how to react to being told she was presumed dead for two years.  
“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Kate said cheerily, and Max managed a weak laugh, hoping it wouldn’t sound too forced.  
“How have you been?” Max asked, as nonchalantly as she could manage. She’d never been good at small talk — not after being hit with a statement like that, anyway. Right off the bat, too.  
“I’ve been good. Have you spoken to Chloe yet?”  
Max paused. She wasn’t used to hearing that name. And Kate said it so… casually. She forgot that other people didn’t choke every time they got close to saying it out loud. Kate must have noticed her blunder, because she quickly changed the topic.  
“How was move-in day?”  
“Pretty good.” Max replied, still reeling from her previous question.  
“I was all worked up about it, but it ended up being fine for me, too. What room number are you?”  
“219. You?”  
“Oh!” Kate exclaimed, “I’m 222! We’re practically neighbours.”  
Max smiled (genuinely this time). She already had a friend here. She wasn’t doomed to be a friendless loser like she had been in high school. 

_Thank. Jesus._

***

The introductory meeting passed without incident. Max and Kate had gotten seats near the front, but people kept sneaking in late through the doors during the presentation. By the end of it, Max was ready to pass out. She could not wait to crawl into bed. _Ugh. She had to make it up first._

As she rose to leave, listening to Kate chatter absent-mindedly about her tea collection, Max saw a figure out of the corner of her eye, at the edge of the cafeteria. This had been happening to her for months now, ever since she got her acceptance letter. She’d be walking somewhere, and then she’d see _her._ On the corner of a street, or in a crowd of people. Max would look, and it would just be someone with a blue hat or something. She’d look them and realise that they didn’t actually look anything like _her._ Max glanced back at the figure, heart pounding as it always did in those few uncertain seconds.  
  
Their eyes met across the room. Everything stopped.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe and Max meet for the first time after their car-crash of a relationship.

**CHAPTER TWO**

**CHLOE**

Everything seemed to fall away. For one second, it was like nothing had happened.   
She looked older now, but her eyes were still the same. Smudged with brown eyeliner, but still the same. She was a little taller, her long legs and arms more graceful now. She’d come together like… like art, like a sculpture. Chloe couldn’t think properly; she was falling to pieces. She had that snow-globe feeling of being tipped upside down and shaken around, like the world was falling out from under her feet again. For one aching second, everything was the same.  
Then her anger came in a hot flash. Max dropped her gaze, looking at her feet. Chloe couldn’t stand it. She turned sharply, shoving through the swelling crowd of students, and out the doors.  
_Not now. Not her._  
One small part of her was tugging her backwards. _She came back for you._  
She ignored it. Max came back for this school, not her, and they both knew it.  
  


**MAX**

Really, she should have known this would happen. She and Chloe always found their way back to each other. They had always had their own weird gravity. Seeing her face again after so long felt strange. Max realised, with an odd sadness, that she had started to get some of the details wrong. Or maybe she’d changed since they had huddled together in the cab of her truck. Since that night in the Impala.   
Chloe looked sadder now. She was wearing the flannel that used to be Max’s favourite. She remembered it so clearly now. How she’d said Chloe looked like she walked off the set of a music video or something. That was still true. She still looked as effortlessly cool as she had when they’d first met. Max didn’t get much time to look at her face. There was a moment, when their eyes had first met, that Chloe looked almost glad to see her. She looked so childlike in those few seconds, eyes wide with something like hope. Maybe that was wishful thinking. Her expression was quickly replaced with cold fury. Max had never seen her look angrier, not even at Nathan that time he’d called her a dyke. Max couldn’t look at her after that. Part of her wanted to follow Chloe, but her feet stayed planted firmly on the grimy linoleum.  
“Are you okay?” Kate asked gently. Max nodded. She was barely holding it together.“Come on,” Kate tugged her towards the doors by the elbow. 

**CHLOE**

She came back. She came back and she didn’t tell her, and all she had left of her was one fucking polaroid. Two words. Chloe had gotten used to feeling like this since Max left. She had this emptiness in her that she carried around day to day, until she got used to feeling lighter than normal. Parts of her kept disappearing with the people she loved — Max took a little bit, then her dad, her sister, even Rachel. All she got from her was one call a month, in which Rachel talked, and she listened. What she would have given to have Max call her just once. Just one time.   
When she moved out, she thought she’d be done with it. No waiting by the phone, no empty places at the dinner table. She didn’t take the photo of Max with her to Blackwell — it was still in that little box under her bed — and she felt lighter now that she’d stopped carrying it around. She felt like she was finally, _finally_ letting her go. And then she showed up back on her doorstep. Just like that.  
Chloe slammed the door to her new bedroom — hard — but it had one of those slow-close hinges, so it stopped a few inches before the doorframe, slid shut, and clicked quietly. She flopped onto her bed, face-first into the pillow. _FUCK YOU MAXINE CAULFIELD. FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU._ She couldn’t bring herself to get up to put on any music, so she just lay there, letting the silence press down on her like she hadn’t in so long.Her room got dark around her, fading from powder blue to a gentle purple, and eventually blackness. Chloe felt a few tears escape then, slipping quietly into her hairline, stinging her eyes. She sat up with a sniff, wiping her hand across her cheek, her mascara smudging across her cheekbone. She crossed to the mirror, switching on her Christmas lights as she went. Standing there in the colourful light, she looked almost like she did before she’d lost anything at all.  
  


**MAX**

She was pacing in her bedroom. Up, down, up, down. Kate watched from the bed, where she sat cross-legged, leaning against the brick wall. Her large eyes followed Max, moving side to side like one of those cat clocks Max had seen in diners, and in Fernando’sbedroom.  
“I didn’t realise all that had happened,” Kate said, still watching Max’s anxious pacing. Max had caught her up on the events leading to her departure, and Kate had listened carefully. Max guessed it was almost as interesting as the rumours had made it out to be.  
“I just… left her here. I didn’t want to bring all of that shit with me. And as much as I… as important as she was to me,” Max said carefully, sitting beside Kate, “she was just too tangled up in everything else.”  
Kate nodded. She was a pretty good listener. Max looked at her shoes.  
“You know, Chloe’s had a pretty tough time since you left.” Kate said, once she was sure that Max didn’t have anything else to add.  
“Well, yeah, but I figured she’d get over it. I was just a high school girlfriend.” Max replied, even though the words were sharp in her throat, and it made her chest feel tight. Chloe was more than that to her, at least.  
“No, Max…” Kate’s tone made Max look up. She had this serious expression, like she was about to tell her something really bad, and it felt like everything around them got a little quieter. “I can’t believe you don’t know,” Kate said, more quietly this time, “Chloe’s dad and sister… they were killed. Drunk driver.”  
Max felt the air leave her lungs. _William and Jennifer?  
  
_No.  
“I…” Max said, trailing off. It occurred to her that she was a terrible person. Her eyes drifted to her bag where she knew the letters sat inside, still sealed. _Had one of them contained…? Did Chloe think she didn’t care?_  
“We all felt pretty bad for them. My sister used to hang out with Jennifer a lot. It hit the whole town pretty hard. I… thought you knew.”  
Max was overcome with the suffocating feeling of there not being enough air in the room, in the world, as she drew in shuddering breaths.  
“Chloe… I just… I…” Max was beginning to lose control, her fingers tingling, still taking in gasping breaths. She squeezed her eyes shut.  
“Max?” Kate had an edge to her voice; Max couldn’t see her face, but she knew what Kate was thinking. If she looked up, she’d see that same expression that everyone had when _this_ happened. Her aunt and uncle, guidance counsellors, therapists — the same look of mild panic, the same searching, anxious gaze. When she went to the doctor, they just gave her a ‘mild tranquilliser' and said to stop drinking caffeine, advice which she did not follow. She’d be willing to take a blowdart to the neck right now. Anything to stop this from happening in front of Kate. Max clutched at the sheets beneath her as the world started to spin. 

“Max, what’s wrong?” 

***

Kate still seemed pretty concerned, even after Max had calmed down. She kept making excuses to stay, even though it was edging towards 11PM. Max was touched at first, but Kate was on her third excuse, and she wanted to be alone. After a lot of reassuring her that she wasn’t about to have some kind of psychotic break, she eventually managed to usher her out of the door.   
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kate asked, hovering in the corridor.  
“Yes.” Max replied, having answered this question at least three times already.  
“Okay,” Kate said, still unsure, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”  
“Yeah.” Max said, shutting the door. _Jesus._  
  
Max, now alone, sat on her bed. Jeff was looming in the back of her consciousness somewhere, lurking. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, and this accident. How many times had she seen him barely able to walk, driving around in that stupid truck of his? _God_.  
She thought of his rat face. His slurred speech. She glanced again at the satchel bag.  
  
_Fuck it.  
_  
Max crossed to the bed, tore open the bag, and dug for the letters. 

She opened them one by one with trembling fingers, but couldn’t get past the first sentence of each. 

_Dear Max,  
I’m writing this from the rest stop. I miss you already. Can’t wait to hear your voice.  
  
  
Dear Max,  
Did you get my postcard? It probably got lost. Things aren’t the same without you  
  
  
Dear Max,  
Guess what? Seniors don’t have to do gym anymore! _

_  
Dear Max,  
I met this girl, Rachel. I wish you could meet her. She’s nice, but I miss you.  
  
  
Dear Max, _

_Did I do something wrong?_

_Dear Max,  
I need you. Here’s my number. Did you forget? _

_Max,  
I love you, I’m still here, I haven’t given up_

The last one was short, so Max couldn’t help but read it all. She didn’t want to see her name at the bottom. She didn’t want to see a _love from_ or a _forever yours_ or a _fuck you._

_Max,_

_Please answer me, I can’t do this anymore_

_Love always,  
Chloe_

She had, until today, kept Chloe safe in her mind. Interrupted just at the point when she was sure that Chloe had no more love to give. That Chloe belonged to her.   
There were no letters after that. No mention of William and Jennifer. It was dated November 8th, 1987. Her fingers traced the words. Chloe was here, somewhere, closer than she had been in years. 

**CHLOE**

After the accident, Chloe cried every single day for weeks. She knew it had started to make people uncomfortable, returning to school and watching them skirt around the topic of their sisters, their cars, their dads. No matter how hard everyone tried to avoid bringing up _anything_ that might set her off, tears kept leaking out of her. People would side-eye her as tears splashed onto her desk, or trickled uncomfortably down her cheek mid-conversation. Then even her tears succumbed to the overwhelming empty feeling, and stopped too. Since then, until tonight, she hadn’t cried once. Not even when Rachel left, and they had been (sort of?) dating. It felt good. It felt like the kind of clean sadness she could deal with — good, old-fashioned teenage heartbreak. None of this death and mourning that was way beyond her maturity level.   
Chloe’s eyes landed on the stack of tapes that she’d brought with her. She’d have to dig out her walkman from whatever box she’d buried it in, but…  
She crossed to the tapes. She could see Max’s handwriting on the label of one. _Best Songs Ever_. Chloe wasn’t so sure about that. She hadn’t listened to it since Max had first given it to her, almost three years ago now. Chloe’s mind flickered between _then_ Max, and _now_ Max. Did she even still like The Beatles?  
She picked up the tape gently, as if it might bite her, and held it in her hand like it was alive. Her finger traced the words Max had written, the ink slightly smudged. She liked to indulge in her teenage sadness. It was comforting. 

She put it in her Walkman. She put her headphones on.

**MAX**

Max woke up the next morning more puffy than usual. It was a Saturday, and she was immensely grateful for the buffer week between moving in and the start of classes. Maybe she’d have a chance to smooth things over with Chloe. Or avoid her at all costs and switch schools. But it was a Saturday morning, and her face was all swollen and gross from crying all night, and she didn’t want to think about any of this _shit_. Max weighed her options, before yanking the covers back over her head, and lying there for another hour in the stuffy darkness.  
Chloe. All she could think about was Chloe.  
Doors were slamming outside.  
Her neighbour was playing loud music again.  
Max thought back to those mornings on the bus, how she’d barely survived the weekends between them, how it felt like she couldn’t breathe unless Chloe was around. It was kind of like that now. Like she hadn’t taken a breath in almost three years, and yesterday she did, and now her lungs were screaming for more. Max pushed the thought from her mind again, pulling off the quilt to brave the cool morning air. The sunlight blinded her for a second, and this was enough to shake off the last few thoughts of Chloe. Barefoot on the scratchy carpet, Max walked over to the window and pulled open the curtains, allowing the sun to stream in full-force. Summer was barely clinging on, a few leaves already turning yellow against the subtle cold. This might be the last day she’d be able to get away with just a cardigan. There were a few people milling around in the courtyard: the caretaker setting out a small pile of seed for the wildlife, two boys throwing a football between them, and one girl reading a book on the grass. She was stretched out like a cat in a beam of steamy sunlight, her long hair fanned out behind her. It would make a great photo. 

***

“Max,” Kate called from the other side of her door. True to her promise, Kate was back, and she seemed determined to get Max out of her room.  
“Please, Kate, I don’t want to,” Max said, looking anxiously through the peephole. Kate looked even smaller through the distorted lens, her eyes huge and full of concern. She shifted from one foot to the other.  
“It’s important to get involved in the first few days,” she said, “my sister told me all about it.” Kate paused, and then added in a low voice, “You’ll have to face her at some point.”  
“No,” Max said, pouting, “I won’t.”  
Kate knocked again, right beside Max’s head. _Give up already_. Max pulled the door open a crack.  
“Just come to this one event with me.”  
Max opened the door a little more, one blue eye peering out of the gap. Kate looked over her shoulder, leaned closer, and whispered. “She won’t be there. She doesn’t really engage in this kind of thing, especially since…”  
Max mulled this over for a minute. Kate was right, Chloe had never been particularly enthusiastic about making friends. Plus, it was 10am — if Max knew her at all, she’d still be sleeping. Then again… Max didn’t really know her at all anymore. But Kate also wasn’t giving up. She sighed.  
“Fine,” Max relented, grabbing her cardigan and joining Kate in the corridor. Kate clasped her hands together, rising up onto her tiptoes and back down again with glee. At least someone was happy.

**CHLOE**

Stephhad dragged her to this stupid mixer thing. She didn’t need more friends. She had Steph, she had Rachel, and that was perfectly fine with her, _thank you very much_. Steph wasn’t having any of it. She had knocked relentlessly on Chloe’s door all morning, until she couldn’t ignore her any longer, and had to let her in.  
“Whoa,” Steph said when Chloe finally opened the door, “you look like shit, Price.”  
“Yeah, yeah.” Chloe replied, rolling her eyes. It was true. She did look like shit. She barely slept at all last night — she’d listened to that stupid tape until the batteries in her walkman ran out around 4AM. Then she’d stared at the ceiling as her room gradually got lighter, and by the time she was tired enough to actually fall asleep, birds had started tweeting obnoxiously, right outside her fucking window.  
“Let’s get you a coffee,” Steph said, patting her on the back. She was making a show of it, which normally would have made Chloe laugh, but today it was pissing her off.  
“Steph, not to be rude, but why the fuck are you here at eight AM?”  
“We’re going to this thing,” Steph said excitedly, “Well, I want to go, but I can’t go _alone,_ so I’m bringing you. It’s a society fair.”  
“We _just_ got here,” Chloe protested, raking her fingers through her hair.  
“Yeah, well, I want to scope out the D&D group, so you’re coming.”  
Chloe paused for a moment. As much as she didn’t like to admit it, she _was_ kind of into all of Steph’s nerdy shit. It tempted her for a moment, until she remembered Max.  
“I can’t.” Chloe said flatly. She hadn’t told Steph about the night before yet. She hadn’t really told Steph _anything_ about Max, only that they had dated, and _only_ because Steph had gone snooping around under her bed and found the box with the picture in it. Steph had tried to get her to burn it, or throw it in the trash, but Chloe had gotten really mad and shoved it back under the bed, and they hadn’t spoken about her since.  
“We’ve been here for a day, what kind of trouble could you have gotten into _already_?”  
“I…” Chloe sat down on the edge of her bed. She wasn’t really sure she wanted to tell anyone yet. She wanted to have it to herself, just for a little while longer, so she could make up her mind without anyone forming an opinion for her. Steph’s smile faltered a little.  
“What’s wrong?” she asked, an edge of poorly concealed concern in her voice. Chloe was rarely so serious. Moody, yes, but never like this. If something was bothering her, she complained about it until it was everyone else’s problem too. It was part of her roguish charm.  
“Nothing. I’m just tired as fuck.” Chloe sighed, standing up and stretching out. Her bones clicked _way_ more than they used to. She yawned.  
“So… coffee? Then D&D?”  
“You are such a nerd.” Chloe sighed.  
“You love it.” 

***

Chloe was standing at the edge of a society fair that was way too loud for 9AM. The sun was in her eyes, she had a relentless headache, and she felt all stuffy (which she explained away as pollen, even though she knew it was from her late-night crying sesh). It felt like what she could only describe as an emotional hangover. Even though she was wearing her most unapproachable expression, someone came up to her every two minutes or so with a new neon flyer, advertising debate team, or Amnesty International, or some other stupid shit that she didn’t care about. After the fourth flyer, she stopped reading them, crumpling them up and tucking them in her pocket. Chloe price did not litter. Steph waved from across the lawn.  
“What’s up?” Chloe said, squinting against the morning light.  
“D’you wanna sign up with me?” Steph said, holding out a clipboard with a pen attached. Chloe’s gaze passed along the table. There were only two people sitting there, surrounded by thick hardcover books, probably about 40 dice between them, a collection of painted figurines, and a (very) empty sign-up sheet. Like, _embarrassingly_ empty. One of them smiled as Chloe’s eyes met his.  
“Hi,” he said, sheepishly. He was wearing a graphic tee (a cow sunbathing with the caption ‘roast beef’) and a sleeveless vest. Chloe raised her eyebrows.  
“Hi.”  
“Are you interested in signing up? We were just founded last year, so we don’t have many members. Just me and Daniel.” he said, jerking his head towards his companion, who hadn’t said anything at all. “We haven’t been able to play much.”  
Steph attempted to hand her the clipboard. Only Steph's name, and one other that she didn’t recognise were on the board. Chloe gave her a pleading look. Steph only shoved the board closer. She sighed, grabbing the pen.  
“Great!” the boy at the table smiled again.“I’m Warren, by the way.” He ruffled his hair in what she assumed was meant to be a charming manner. She had only known him for about a minute, but Chloe found him intensely annoying.  
“We meet every Sunday,” said the other boy quietly, “but we probably won’t start until October.” Chloe nodded, although she didn’t plan on attending any of the meetings. She handed him the clipboard. She had expected Steph to ask more questions, but when she turned to look at her, Steph was squinting at something in the distance. Probably some other society she was about to get dragged into.  
“Um, Chloe?” Steph turned to her with an unreadable expression. She seemed unsure of herself.  
“Yeah?”  
“I saw… I mean I _think_ I just saw—”  
Chloe followed her gaze. There, standing next to a girl from high school ( _Cath? Claire?),_ was Max. Before she could stop herself, she was striding towards them, pushing past clusters of students and slipping through gaps between tables. She didn’t know what she was going to say, but she had to say _something_. Max only noticed her when they were feet apart, lips parted like she was caught mid-sentence. Her blonde friend’s eyes widened.   
“Why are you here?” Chloe said, more aggressively than she had intended. It reminded her of their first interaction, in which two of the four words spoken were ‘Jesus’ and ‘fuck’. Max stared back at her, unblinking.  
“Well?” Chloe prompted. She was getting angrier by the second, two years of pent-up rage finally crashing out of her, all at once.  
“As far as I’m aware, this is a mixer for _all_ Blackwell students.” Max said sourly. Chloe felt a familiar prickle of annoyance in her throat. She was always so defensive, especially in those first few weeks. It felt like they had gone backwards. Cath (or whatever she was called) was looking anxiously between them, like she wanted to intervene but didn’t know what to say.  
“Did you get my letters?” Chloe asked. Her voice was smaller now.   
Max nodded.  
“Oh.”  
  


**MAX**

Max wanted to reach out to her, to hold her tightly, but she couldn’t. 

**CHLOE**

Oh. She’d read the letters. _Oh._

**MAX**

Chloe just walked away, which was much worse than anything she could have possibly said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry this took a while. This might be irritating for you to discover, but I do have most of this story written already. I just couldn't bring myself to post it for some reason. Anyway, here we are, so I hope you enjoy. It's a bit of a longer chapter this time. as apology :)

**Author's Note:**

> Will be posting on a weekly basis. Hope you enjoyed <3


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